


Aliases

by Oh_Toasty



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aliases, First Meetings, Gen, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, Minor Violence, Off screen, Secret Identity, Suspicion, Tests, Tiger Jack, thugs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:04:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Toasty/pseuds/Oh_Toasty
Summary: Sebastian Moran and James Moriarty meet or almost meet under false pretenses, until the day the finally come face to face as themselves.





	Aliases

**Author's Note:**

> This is just pre-slash right now, I don’t know if I’ll continue it

The thing about Sebastian “Basher” Moran is that everyone underestimates him. They don’t realize that before he was a criminal, he was a colonel in Her Majesty’s Army and had he not been forced to retire or face dishonorable discharge he’d have made Brigadier General soon. Now though, now no one knows his history. No one realizes that the only reason he’s a simple subordinate is because he wishes to be. 

He’s taken off the street by two simple thugs. He’d seen them tailing him for at least three miles, and had allowed them to remain out of curiosity. He had lost three of their friends earlier, and thus their tenacity intrigues him. Not many people have the money or desire to hire so many men to follow me someone like him. 

They inject him with something, he can’t be certain what, but he awakens tied to a chair in what appears to be a warehouse. It’s dimly lit and he snorts at how stereotypical it is. A quick scan of the room reveals that he’s being watched by the same two thugs who took him earlier. Neither is positioned where they can see his hands tied behind his back and thus he instantly sets to work busting himself out. As much as the situation interests him, Sebastian has no desire to place himself at a disadvantage. 

A man walks in moments later, when Sebastian is a mere moment from freeing his arms. Curious, he tilts his head at the man approaching him though he doesn’t halt or hurry his efforts to free himself. 

“Can I help you,” Sebastian asks assessing the other man. 

What he finds doesn’t impress him at all; the man is short and squat with mousy brown hair with light grey streaks and a patchy beard. Sebastian judges him to be in his mid thirties, though he could be younger. The stress weighing on his shoulders could be prematurely aging him. 

“Tiger Jack,” the man drawls. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Hmm,” Sebastian murmurs. “Why’s that?”

His eyes land on the two thugs whose faces and not quite as much of a blank slate at they wish. There’s no respect on their faces and that, that tells him as much as he needs to know. 

“I’d like to employ you.” 

Sebastian smile is more aggressive than friendly, “Not interested.”

“It wasn’t a question.” 

“And my answer hasn’t changed. I don’t have any desire to work for you.”

“And why’s that?”

Sebastian rolls his eyes as he finally breaks free of his restraints, “Well for one, your men don’t respect you so I can’t see why I should and, second of all, you can’t even properly restrain a man.”

With that he takes advantage of the man’s distraction, looking at his subordinates to determine the truth of Sebastian’s words, and he rises to his feet, striking the man. He chuckles lightly as the other falls back and his thugs begin to charge at him, but it’s to late. Sebastian has already taken the cuffs which had been securing his hands and wrapped them around the supposed leaders throat. 

“I’m afraid I have to take my leave now,” Sebastian murmurs as he inches towards the door, using his hostage as a barrier between him and the two henchmen. While he could take the others on easily enough, there’s no point in engaging with them; he has other places to be. 

When he reaches the exit, Sebastian snaps his hostage’s neck and makes a break for it, perhaps not his best thought out escape plan, but he lives for the rush of adrenaline that flows throughout his body. The potential of violence sings in his blood and he escapes with a mild interest in his surroundings. The area all around is barren, almost as though his departure had been expected. 

It takes him roughly half a day to get back to London proper, though most of that time had been spent determining that he wasn’t being followed or watched. Returning to his apartment is out of the question, Sebastian may have killed whoever was looking for him, but it’s seems more likely that they had just been a pawn in some players game. There’s no way a man like that garnered enough respect to commission a man like him. 

He makes his way to one of his many stashes throughout the city, picks up his supplies, including fake identification, and sets back out. He’ll avoid London for now, take up the job offer he received for some American politician, and keep an ear to the ground in regards to his recent kill, not to mention whether or not he was being searched for.

 

The job in America goes well enough, Sebastian scopes out his target for a week, before sniping him as he was out to lunch with his wife. His exit is as quick and clean as usual, as is his flight to Russia. The Russians have been asking for his services for a while, but Sebastian had been putting them off for better paying jobs. Now though, with no other jobs lined up and more time to kill before heading back to London will be considered safe, Sebastian takes the meeting. 

His Russian is rather rusty, but luckily the man he meets with speaks enough English to get across his point. Some Ukrainian has been drawing attention to illegal Russian actions, they’d like the man silenced and Sebastian will be paid handsomely. 

The job is to easy enough, albeit they wanted it to look natural and Sebastian was forced to lie in wait in the man’s own home in order to inject his vein with air via an empty syringe. It’s his least favorite way to kill, this stage in between distant and calculated and bloody and passionate. 

After the job is done, Seb returns home. He hasn’t heard anything about the man he killed in a while; it had been chalked up to a drug deal gone wrong apparently. He’s careful not to return to the apartment he generally stays at, instead taking up residence at the home he’d inherited from his great aunt under his birth name. He’s been sure to keep the name Sebastian Moran separate from his line of work. 

The home is stuffy and still filled with the belongings of his great aunt, and as he reclines on the bed, intending to take a nap, he begins plotting how he’ll go about changing the place into a respectable home for a lord. After all, he must keep up appearances as a respectable citizen.

The next few weeks are spent socializing among the upper class, keeping up appearances. They’ll never truly accept him of course, not with his suspicious resignation from the military, but they have no reason to cut him off from their society and, as much as he hates all the pomp and circumstance, high society is one of the best places to hide. No one looks for an assassin among the wealthy. 

Sebastian is making appearances at some high society event or another when a man he’s never seen before catches his eye. He’s shadowing Lord Mecklen, as if he were an aide of sorts, but Sebastian knows well enough that Mecklen would find it tacky to bring an aide to a social event. 

The man is rather bland, a chameleon of sorts; his hair is dark brown, almost black and he has eyes to match. His suit is cheap and slightly wrinkled, and it’s a wonder Mecklen brought him along at all with that. 

 

Licking his lips, Sebastian approaches like a tiger on the prowl. He’ll have to make conversation with Mecklen before he engages the aide of course, but eventually he should be able to turn the conversation towards the topic he desires. He’s no spy, prefers to get information through good old fashioned torture, but if he has to use manipulation he’s always glad to use it on high society as they are some of the easiest targets: always too eager to talk about themselves. 

“Lord Mecklen,” Sebastian greets with a wide smile. He makes sure to pitch his voice just loud enough that their conversation will have been noticed and Mecklen can’t escape without seeming rude. 

“Lord Moran,” there’s a grimace on his face as though greeting him with his courtesy title is a hardship in and of itself. Sebastian holds back a laugh. “How have you been, I’ve not seen you in ages?” 

“You know how things are,” Sebastian remarks. “I’ve been cleaning up the estate I inherited, but enough about me. How are you? I see you’ve taken a new apprentice under your wing?”

“Oh no,” Mecklen corrects him. “This is my aide: James Marquee. I was simply showing him the nicer side of England.”

“We lack such finery in France,” the aide timidly replies. 

Sebastian blinks, there is something not quite right with the man’s accent. It was French alright, but with undertones of something else. Perhaps it was simply a part of France Sebastian had not had the pleasure to visit, but it may be something else entirely and Sebastian’s job requires he keep his guard up. 

“Ah,” Sebastian murmurs before switching into French, “And how are you finding our little country so far?”

“Quite well, thank you,” the man replies in fluent French. 

Sebastian’s brows raise slightly, but he allows Mecklen to make his excuses and take his aide along with him. There’s something about that man, but even if he has ill intent it doesn’t seem to be aimed at him. He’ll simply have to keep an eye on the situation. 

Three weeks later, Mecklen is found murdered in his bed. His aide is, of course, taken in for questioning, but quickly released. Luckily, Sebastian has already reached the police station by the time he’s released and is able to intercept the man outfront. 

“How did you do it,” Sebastian asks the man who cowers before him. 

James shakes his head, “I did not, I did not kill Lord Mecklen!”

“Not that, I couldn’t care less how he died. I want to know how you convinced them it wasn’t you. After all, you’re the only new factor in his life.”

“I did not kill him,” James repeats, his eyes wide. Sebastian can’t help but see a sparkle of something else in those brown eyes. “That’s is all I told them, the truth. I was out at a bar last night. There is no way it could have been me.”

Sebastian shrugs, “If you want to keep your story, I won’t blame you. I’m just dying to know why him, was it his side business? Is that why you killed him?”

“Monsieur, for the last time, I didn’t not kill Lord Mecklen!”

“Alright then, I’m sure you’re innocent. You don’t need to try and convince me.”

He ambles off, deciding to look into it more at a later point in time. The man is interesting, but Sebastian has a job tonight and he needs to go get his supplies together. 

He never makes it to his job that afternoon. He’s halfway to his roost when he spots a man following him. He’s so focused on the man behind him, wondering if it’s in anyway related to his last kidnapping, that he missed the man who approached him from the front, injecting him with some sort of sedative. 

He wakes up in the same warehouse as before, only the goons have been replaced with new ones and the former so called boss has been replaced with James Marquee. 

Sebastian raises his brow with intrigue. 

“Hello there, tiger,” James greets him, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Did you miss me?”

“Didn’t give me much of a chance now, did you?” Sebastian answers trying to assess the situation. James, for lack of a better name, had called him Tiger which could either mean he knows that Tiger Jack is Sebastian Moran, or he is prone to using endearments. The repeat location and change in restraints seems to point to the former. 

James hums. “Maybe not, but I missed you! You’re such a clever little man, noticing me at our gala. Of course, you’re not too clever or you would have pursued the matter more.”

“Maybe. Still I’m curious, why did you approach me before we met; why use an intermediary?”

“Caught on to that did you; maybe you aren’t such a lost cause.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, let's get down to business.” James approaches Sebastian though he maintains enough distance that if Sebastian were able to free his hand he’d still be out of reach. “My boss would like to hire you as a full time sniper. You would work for him, and him alone, but you’d be paid handsomely.”

“And who is it exactly that I'd be working for?”

A wicked grin spreads across James’s face, “You may have heard of him; his name is Moriarty.”

Sebastian’s mind races. Moriarty is well known among the criminal underground. Sebastian himself has been offered several contracts to execute the man, but refused as he didn’t even know where to begin. No one knows what the man looks like, not even his closest subordinates. He communicates solely through intermediaries, and isn’t afraid to kill of those who are no longer useful to him. 

“I’m familiar with the name, yes.” Sebastian replies his eyes searching Marquee’s face. “I’m assuming that were I to say no, I’d be killed.”

“Oh, most definitely!” Marquee cheers, “Though you may be released and given a chance to escape. Sometimes, the hunt is more exciting than the kill.”

Sebastian hums. There’s something about Marquee that he finds off putting. Something about how he treats Sebastian’s future: sure that he’ll die eventually, but not how. That level of freedom could only mean one thing: whoever James Marquee really is, he has power. He had to be high up in Moriarty’s network, someone who Moriarty trusts. 

“Oh,” Sebastian murmurs. Someone Moriarty trusts, who would a man such as that trust outside of himself. Sebastian smirks, looking up to make eye contact with James. “I’m excited to come and work for you then.”

He’s sure that the other man noticed his change in pronouns as he professed his willingness, though he made no physical acknowledgement. 

“I knew you’d come to the right decision,” Moriarty smiles. “Jobs will start appearing readily enough. I expect you to follow them to the letter.”

Sebastian nods and Moriarty whistles once, signaling the thugs to leave the room. Sebastian isn’t sure if that makes him feel better or worked about what’s to come. 

“You’re a clever little Tiger, aren’t you? I can’t wait to play some more.”

He begins to walk away, but Sebastian can’t help himself. “Moriarty?”

“Yes, dear,” the man asks looking over his shoulder. 

“Why didn’t you kill me when you realized I knew who you are?”

“I told you, I can’t wait to play with you. Besides, you still have to survive one more little test.”

Moriarty leaves, and with in moments more of his thugs begin to stream into the room. Sebastian, although still secured to his chair, rises to his feet, prepared to use it as a weapon. 

It’s as he bites another man’s throat out, fighting with everything he has, that he realizes he’s down right excited to work for Moriarty.

**Author's Note:**

> I kind of just work on this when I’m bored; I don’t know if I’ll actually continue it.


End file.
